Miracle
by Non sibi sed patriae
Summary: Harm and Mac reach a turning point in their relationship and speak candidly of their feelings. Set post-Four Percent Solution and PG13-rated for some mature content.


This is my first attempt at fan fiction prose, and I welcome feedback and constructive criticism. It is dedicated to Cassidy, who encouraged me to write in the first place, and who would have beta-read this if it was not her surprise Christmas present! LOL. Thanks for reading - enjoy.

Date: The Future

Time: 00:55 ZULU

Location: Washington, DC

She knocked on his apartment door with familiar hesitation. Regardless of the past several years, Mac still felt at relative ease in Harm's home, having made herself comfortable there on many previous occasions. But try as she may, Mac could not fight the visions of times this place had been the starting line of her race to be alone, instead of the beginning of the end of the struggle. _"I'll be okay…when you get back." _But she was nowhere to be found when he returned. _"I don't want you to go, Mac." _But she had to and did. No matter where she went, he found her, and now she wanted nothing more than this.

For years it was the same; working dinners, movie nights, and late-night debates were standard issue, and they satisfied emptiness like so much chocolate cake, leaving you full and yet hungry for more. Their thirst for one another's company seemed insatiable then, now so far removed and weather worn.

Harm opened the door, jean-clad and freshly showered, pulling a shirt over his head. Mac thought he smelled like rain.

"Impeccable," he sighed, his voice muffled by fabric as he finally squared away his attire. He looked at her and smiled; the blue jeans and red sweater she wore hugged her lithe figure. "You, and your timing," he added.

As Sarah Mackenzie allowed old familiarities to embrace her, she found a certain warmth all around, like arriving – or departing, depending on whether you wanted to come or go. But leaving was out of the question, and Mac had brought herself to this moment purposefully. She steeled herself as she passed by Harm and smelled him again, clean and sweet and hot. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. He blushed.

"You clean up okay," she conceded as she walked past him and set her purse down on the couch.

"So, the lasagna should be ready in 5 or so," Harm changed the subject as he made his may to the kitchen.

"Sounds great," Mac answered, reeled back into the now. She encouraged, "And it smells divine." She grabbed a National Geographic from Harm's coffee table and began to thumb through it, pretending to admire pictures while she paced her racing heartbeat.

"Hope so," Harm grinned, relaxed yet eager, focused upon yet distracted by his attraction to her. When Harmon Rabb found himself looking at Sarah Mackenzie, it was hard to ever look away. She had this uncanny way of engaging your full attention whether or not you had it to spare, and it was damn unsettling. It made you speak without thinking, act without caution, and lose track of time, the time she could so ingeniously keep.

The oven timer rang just minutes later, and dinner was soon on the table. Conversation was minimal with only bits of banter, both Harm and Mac eating amiably and with no lack of eagerness.

"Delicious, as always," she complimented as she made circles in her leftover marinara with the last little piece of garlic bread; she was satiated, pondering if even one last mouthful was possible.

"Fine company, no less," Harm returned, holding her gaze. "And thanks, Mac, on both accounts."

"I've missed you," she admitted, relieved and grateful for the private confessional his inviting eyes had provided all these years.

"I've missed you, too," Harm quietly confessed. "I'm better with you than without you."

Mac remained silent, unshaken by his candor. She'd had time to come to terms with this Harm, the one who said what he was thinking, to anticipate the emotions his truthfulness would stir.

"You know that, don't you?" Harm continued. "If you don't, I'm a bigger fool than I had imagined."

Mac stretched her upturned hand across the table, the half-melted candles radiating heat and amplifying the inviting glow of her olive skin; she did not reach for his hand but let hers linger there, beckoning. As Harm gently placed his hand in Mac's, embracing the subtle delicacies of her grasp, each took a deep breath.

"You're not a fool," she said as she ran her thumb across the back of his hand. Time stopped and started. "Come on," Mac said as she suddenly rose and began gathering the plates. "Dirty dishes wait for no Marine – or even Squid, for that matter," she teased.

Harm obliged, grinning and marveling all the while at this unpredictable creature he always thought he knew and then suddenly did not. He watched her hands as she began running the dishes under hot water in the sink, stealing as many glances from the corner of his eye as he dare lest she catch him, red-handed, staring rather than cleaning up. As he put leftovers away and wiped down the countertop, Mac was scrubbing away, having forsaken the dishwasher for, as she put it, the "comforting ordinariness" of doing it by hand.

Harm soon fell in beside her, dishtowel at the ready, and Mac worked her way through the soapy water, searching for straggling utensils. He watched as light bounced off the bubbles and water beads rinsing over her skin; wanting to touch her, he did not. They chatted about work and were pleasantly surprised when they realized twice the manpower yielded a well-ordered kitchen in half the time. They smiled at one another.

"Drink?" Harm asked Mac as she meandered over to the couch after returning from the bathroom.

"Please. Water, thanks."

"I'll be right there," he called.

He joined her on the couch moments later, setting her glass of water on the coffee table and taking a quick sip of his juice before putting it down as well. Sitting at opposite ends of the couch, rather like adversaries, the distance between them was palpable, familiar. Time ticked by, unyielding and indefinite. It was Mac who spoke first.

"You always seem to be right here," she interjected into the silence, recalling his last words. "Even when I told you that you weren't, you were. I'm sorry."

"I don't deserve apologies, Mac," Harm argued gently. "You do."

"Maybe we both do." She scooted closer to him.

"Maybe."

"Right here," Mac started again, her hand on her chest.

Harm's pained expression softened as he added, "Yes -- right here, right now."

"No," she countered. Mac gently reached for his hand, placing it over her heart where her own hand had rested moments before. "_Here_. You've been here all this time, even when I lied and swore you weren't."

Harm halved the distance between them, emboldened by Mac's heartbeat as it pulsed through his hand. He could muster only a shudder; afraid he would awaken from a dream as he had so many times before, he closed his eyes and then opened them to find Mac's mouth inches from his own. He could smell her heat before his eyes could fully focus on her face.

"You know that, don't you?" Mac continued, echoing Harm's earlier question. She looked down in her lap for shame. "If you don't, I'm a bigger fool than I had imagined."

Fearing the silence and the trembling of Harm's hand, she raised her eyes to meet his. What she found was a swell of tears falling down like those from a captive newly reprieved. He was silent, and his face spoke nothing while his tears said everything. She wiped away the streams of saltwater streaking his cheeks, caressing him with her eyes and holding him within her gaze. She brought her face to his so that their noses gently brushed, and they could not look away.

"Harm, do you remember that summer we saw _Much Ado About Nothing_ in Williamsburg? At the Shakespeare festival?" Mac asked tentatively. He nodded.

"Do you remember the story?" She waited for his acknowledgment and then continued, moving not an inch from his face. "Beatrice and Benedick, they fought and fought, determined to pull each other down despite what was in their hearts. It's only when circumstance forces their hands that they confess." She paused to summon composure, fearing she could not contain her own emotions much longer.

"Confess what?" Harm's voice trembled.

"Guess," Mac urged, begging the answer long left unspoken.

"Secrets dark and deep?" he whispered, sounding all too familiar with the concept.

"Yes," she answered, and Harm could taste her breath.

"And painful longing?" He closed his eyes.

Mac closed hers, too. "Yes," she sighed, as tears surfaced which would not be cast aside without consequence.

They remained this way for several minutes, unable to speak. Slowly Harm raised his hand to hold Mac's face, opening her eyes and feeling the affection from within them spill over him. He leaned in, placed his cheek next to hers, and whispered in her ear.

" 'I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?' "

"You do remember," Mac said as she lingered in the feel of his breath on her neck. "You do, you do -- "

" 'I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you.' "

Harm brought his gaze back to Mac's eyes, and she stared in stunned silence. Finding her breath, she spoke softly against Harm's lips.

" 'I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.' "

Who kissed whom was later made a matter of some contention, only in this case both parties wished to be held responsible. Their lips met and melted tenderly, and though it was over almost before it began, Harm lived not a single day after in which he could not remember the taste of Mac's salty, sweet, and warm mouth that night.

They pulled their lips away from one another and sat quietly, soaking in the pleasure.

"Harm," Mac began, "I love you."

"I love you," He beamed, smiling in a way Mac had never seen.

"You look as happy as I feel."

"What do you expect from a man who just kissed the most beautiful woman in the world?" Harm questioned

Mac grinned sexily. "I'm blushing, aren't I?"

"You're welcome." His kiss was quick but firm.

"You're delicious."

"So are you, and I want to love you forever," Harm vowed, carefully tracing her collarbone with his index finger. "I never want to let you go," he admitted, cautiously tightening his hold on her with his other arm.

"I don't recall asking you to," Mac encouraged, seeing hesitancy in his eyes and sensing the subtle awkwardness with which he brought his body in contact with hers.

Realizing his transparency, Harm spoke up. "I want to touch you, Mac, but I don't know how," he confessed.

Laughing, Mac tossed her head back and her body followed suit, crashing back on to the couch. She rested her head against the arm and stared at him, amused yet perplexed. Harm, though embarrassed, was not about to surrender, so he got on all fours and crawled across the couch to Mac, leaving inches between them and zero margin for error.

"What's so funny, Colonel?" he interrogated.

Extending her arm and pushing him back on his haunches, she countered, "Oh, power down, Rabb. I just thought those dress whites and gold wings would have given you a slight advantage all these years over the general male population, hence teaching you certain things along the lines of sex and romance. Call me crazy," Mac dared as she stood up.

"Maaaac – "

"On your feet, Sailor," Mac demanded, smiling and bringing her feet off the ground one at a time to remove her sandals.

"Look, Mac – " Harm tried to interject.

"You want to love me forever? Let's start tonight," she declared with a gleam in her eyes, more an invitation than an order.

"I started loving you almost 10 years ago, Mac. It's a bit late to fire the starting gun on this one, don't you think?" he teased with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow, desperately trying to regain his footing in the conversation.

She grinned but remained serious. "Tonight, Harm."

He looked in her eyes and immediately understood, or at least thought he did. Harm stepped forward and kissed Mac deeply, seeking confirmation, and she responded in kind. He held the back of her neck with one hand as he stroked her face, tasted her with newly found hunger. _Heaven_, he thought, and wrapped his arms around her.

"Will you show me how to love you?" He knew it was not a question that need be asked, but he longed to linger in every moment of Mac's nearness and make every second last as long as possible.

"Harm, I've waited all my life to be loved by you," she whispered. "I'm tired of imagining the feeling, and now I want to know. Now, I give myself to you." She kissed him, and he kissed back.

"Light some candles," she said as they faced one another in front of his bed moments later.

"They're in the living room, just a sec– "

She cut him off and stopped him in mid-step. "Not mandatory, and I'm not letting you out of my sight. Just thought you'd have some in here."

"I haven't burned a candle in here for four – well, for a long time." Could she see his shyness at admitting there had been no one since that lonely night on the Admiral's porch? "Sorry, I guess I'm not going to pass the romance portion of this, am I?"

"With flying colors," she contradicted. _He's only this way with me, _shethought as she kissed him tenderly. "Let's start with something simpler."

"Mac, I want everything to be right," he said with concern.

"Harm, are you a figment of my imagination, or are you really standing here, wanting me and loving me?"

"I want to make love to you every day of my life."

"Then it is right," Mac affirmed. She moved to the dimmer switch and lowered the lights by half, softening the edges and stirring the electricity pulsing through the room. Standing herself in front of him at the foot of his bed, she began. "Kiss me, Harm."

He did so with more conviction than Sarah Mackenzie could ever recall giving him credit for, and she was momentarily paralyzed. Regaining her train of thought, she slowly leaned back from him while remaining in his arms.

He looked at her quizzically, trying to read her thoughts, but what she said next made the hair on his arms stand on end.

"Take off my clothes," she said. He regretted his stunned hesitation until Mac spoke again seconds later, touching her sweater. "Harm, I want you to undress me. Please take this off."

Harm reached out, and beginning with the bottom button of her cardigan, began to remove the burden of clothes that had for so long hidden her body from his sight. As the fabric began to fall away from her form, his heartbeat continued to race, and the feel of her skin as his fingers brushed against it was intoxicating. The sweater dropped without ceremony to the floor.

"Feel my skin," Mac invited sweetly, her voice reeling him in. He did.

"You're so soft," he marveled as he ran his fingers up one arm, across her shoulders and down the other arm.

"Touch my breast." And he did, drawing his now-steady hands along the curves of her chest, up and over, around and then down the length of her stomach. He reached her waist and grabbed hold of her there, steadying himself and drawing her nearer.

"You're firm, Mac, and hot," Harm admired as his eyes bore into hers, on fire.

"You're learning, see?" Mac spoke huskily. "Now my pants. Get me out of these."

Harm willingly complied, kneeling down and slowly taking apart the button-fly; painstakingly, if you'd asked Mac, who was using Marine discipline to keep from touching Harm the way he was touching her. She was inviting him to do things she wanted him to do, and it was fulfilling Harm in a way he had never before known. As he slid her jeans down to the floor, she stepped out of the pant legs and he guided her with his hands to sit down on the bed.

"Run your hand up my leg, Harm," Mac directed, and he did, beginning with her delicate ankles and meandering up her calf to the knee, where he placed a gentle kiss. The kisses continued along her inner thigh and then ceased unexpectedly. When she looked down after what felt like days, Mac found him staring at her body unashamedly.

Harm stood then, his eyes never leaving her. Patiently he removed his clothes; there was no hesitation in his intimacy, and when she reached out for him, he came to her and kneeled silently.

"Harm?" she finally whispered

He touched her belly and brought his hand down over her pelvis to rest between her legs; so soft was his touch it was barely even there.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he murmured, enveloping her waist in his arms and laying his head down against her sweet muskiness. "I can hardly believe I'm here."

Mac placed her hand on Harm's head and trailed fingers through his hair as he lay trembling in her lap. "Neither can I," she shivered.

He lifted his head at last, placing caressing hands on her belly and laying a kiss between them. "We can make miracles here, Mac," he promised.

"I think we already have," she whispered, and closed her eyes.

End


End file.
